


A Little More Human

by Lexitennant2



Series: God Pairs Up Angels and Demons [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Crowley loses his plants and Bentley and bakes away his problems, F/M, M/M, Other, i'm not too good at these scenes but oh well, rated teen and up for some sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 17:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexitennant2/pseuds/Lexitennant2
Summary: After the effects of the spell, Crowley and Aziraphale are struggling to come to a new routine that will distract them from Crowley's new identity. Gabriel tries a new tact to make Anathema understand his point of view, and she's not budging....yet.





	A Little More Human

Crowley stared harder at the cook book in front of him, mulling the words over in his head.

3/4 cups of chopped nuts....3/4 cups. This should be fairly simple, but Crowley had never needed to know _math_ or _measurements._ He could miracle up whatever he wanted and it'd be the right size he needed.

But that was impossible now.

There was a flare up of emotions, an aching in his heart that made his throat close and his eyes water, and dear _Lord_ human emotions were as disgusting as he thought they would be.

He took one of the large chopping knives out of the wood block and hovered it awkwardly over a cluster of mixed nuts. He had a small measuring cup that he was _certain_ was a 3/4 cups, but his eyesight as a human was absolute _shit_ and the reading glasses he'd gotten from Anathema weren't good enough.

He chopped, letting the methodic motion lull him into a dull calm. He tossed the chopped nuts into the measuring cup, and was pleased to see they just reached the top of the measuring cup. He then threw it into the ceramic green bowl that held everything else he'd thrown in for the banana nut bread mix, and decided to chop up a few more nuts. He'd started watching cooking shows in his boredom of being trapped in the small cottage of with the unlikely name of Hollythorn, and he'd seen that people sometimes didn't bother measuring, or just added more to their liking.

He didn't think Aziraphale would mind more of the pecan, walnut, and peanut mix, so he grabbed another handful out of the bag and spread it out on the cutting board.

He was getting the hang of the chopping, the blade coming down faster and faster, and then there was a sharp _pain,_ and Crowley stumbled back, his mind a flurry of panic and confusion as the knife clattered onto the chopping board.

Crowley brought his hand up closer to his face, staring at the blood trickling down his thumb in horror and fascination. He numbly walked over to the sink and turned on the water, letting the blood wash off his finger.

The pressure was back in his throat, more intense this time, as he stare at the way the water rushed around his finger. 

The pain was dying down, but there was still a faint sting. He turned off the sink and grabbed a paper towel to apply some pressure to the cut. It stopped bleeding after a few minutes, the cut itself not that deep, but long instead. 

Crowley felt like the kitchen was becoming too small for him, so he abandoned the treat he was going to surprise Aziraphale with and tried to head toward the hall that lead down to his plant room - talking to his plants, even though he could no longer make them tremble or feel any of their emotions, was one of the small comforts Crowley had and it always calmed him to be in that room - when his hip smacked into the kitchen chair.

He stared helplessly at it. 

When he'd been a demon, his hips moved of their own violation, his walk a saunter that drew people towards him. Back then his hips would have moved around the kitchen chair as easily as the water had gone around his thumb, but he'd lost that ability. His walk was now just a strange sway, the charm of his snake like saunter was gone and he found himself tripping more and knocking into things. And _don't_ get him started on _pins and needles._

This time he let the pressure out, his throat constricting, his face contorting as the tears flowed freely. He stood there, shaking quietly, the tears just as silent, before he let out a loud yell and picked up the chair and chucked it across the room. It smacked into a familiar gold pot - now without the red ribbon - and a horrid sound made its way out of his throat. On instinct he reached towards Octavia, an apology on his tongue, but then he remembered it didn't matter anymore.

The connection between demon and plant was now gone.

He sank to his knees and ended up with his back against the kitchen counter cabinets, his bony and very human body protesting at all the hard surfaces pressing into his tailbone and back, but he just drew his knees in and switched from silent tears to a crescendo of tortured and pained cries. The cries of a man who has lost himself so fully.

That's how Aziraphale found him, about an hour later.

His tears had stopped, and dried onto his cheeks, making them itch. He felt utterly drained and weak, and he'd been numbly staring at the tall and gorgeous plant that had once comforted him when he'd had his last break down, but could no longer do so, and the look on Aziraphale's face when the angel walked into the kitchen and spotted Crowley, made Crowely's eyes tear up again. He wasn't up for another round, so he blinked them back, and let the angel sink down next to him and cradle him to his chest.

The spell had certainly been filled with side effects, Anathema _had_ warned them, but Crowley didn't understand why it was always _he_ that was punished. They both had several theories about the whole human bit. It boiled down to two ideas, either it was a side effect of the spell, or it was part of the spell all along. Aziraphale of course believed it had been part of the spell itself, but Crowley then argued if it had been then why weren't they both human? Why did it only strip one of them of their pure essence.

Aziraphale had no answer to that.

* * *

The time of Crowely's meltdown was five days after becoming human. Which would probably have been a record if this situation hadn't been the first time of its kind.

Before then, there had been questions and some panic; a new routine needed to be set, and there was a lot of time spent looking over the spell, checking Anathema's notes, and finally opening the box Anathema had given them.

Five days before, Aziraphale had clung to Crowley in a too hot and much too tight grip, and the demon had let him, trying to get his bearings.

"But..but that's impossible." Aziraphale was losing his composure, one of the signs that things were really bad.

"Don't you mean ineffable?" Crowley teased, trying to find some normalcy in the chaos that was starting.

"Really Crowley this is no joking matter, I-I, there must be a way to reverse all... _this."_ Aziraphale whined and gestured up and down with one hand at the demons body.

"I think I need to sit down." Is all Crowley said, starting to feel a little light headed. His stomach was also hurting, and he tried to think of why that would be. A noise from his stomach made them both glance down in shock and Crowley felt his headache getting worse. _Damn_ humans and their need for food.

"You're hungry." Aziraphale's voice had lost its panicked tone and had a familiar quality of softness.

"You don' have ta rub it in." Crowley squawked, getting out of Aziraphale's arms so he could have some space. He was feeling embarrassed and hurt and really overwhelmed and oh god were his eyes tearing up?

"Oh I'm sorry dear, let me just-" Azirphale cut himself off and with a snap of his fingers there was a banquet of food on their small kitchen table.

Crowley's stomach growled louder.

"Why don't you eat as much as you can -save some for me love- and I'll begin going through the spells and the notes, there must be something...." Aziraphale's voice trailed off as he gathered the papers in his arms and dashed off to the living room with them.

Crowley gazed at the spread in front of him, before piling on foods he could identify onto his plate.

When he went out with Aziraphale, Crowley would normally just take a forkful of whatever Aziraphale was having, or order a small dish for himself, and call it a day. He didn't have the proper taste buds to really enjoy the food, like the angel had, and since there was no physical need to consume food, there was hardly any reason to eat that much or sometimes even at all.

But now, with a human palette, Crowley could understand why the humans indulged themselves, why his _angel_ practically was having a love affair with the food, and was rounder and softer than he'd been at the garden.

Crowley ate heartily, but came no where near making a dent in the pile of food by the time Aziraphale came back in.

"So, how was it?" Aziraphale was eager.

Crowley shrugged and licked his lips.

"I suppose I can understand what all the fuss is about now. What about you? What have you found out?"

Aziraphale sat down onto the chair next to Crowley's and scooted closer. He began talking as he added food to his own plate.

"Well, it does seem to be the spell itself that has led us to this unfortunate situation. The spell takes its own liberties as to what it deems _keeping safe_ the people the spell is cast for. So, the spell has decided that it's in our best interest for you to be...human."

Crowley stayed silent as Aziraphale made his way through; salmon with a teriyaki glaze, poached eggs, kidney pie, Black Forest ham, buttery potatoes, custards, tarts, honey dipped walnuts, and much more.

Crowley was processing what had just been said. Why in the world would the spell think the best course of action to keep them out of sight would be for him to become human...unless.

He stood abruptly, and ignored Aziraphale asking him where he was going, and went into the living room, his eye scanning the room for a certain box.

He found it buried under the notes Anathema had given them, and he easily untied the twine, opening the box and staring down at the contents. It was all paper, the first was a small bundle tied together with string, the rest were loose, and different sizes, all creamy textured paper with yellowed and browned edges.

Aziraphale walked into the room, hastily making his way over to where Crowley stood.

"What was that all about-"

"Look!" Crowley all but shoved the tied together papers into Aziraphale's face.

The angel took the papers and read the title out under his breath.

" _Further Nife and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch, Concerning Angel and Demon.Third Installment."_

Aziraphale looked like a dumbfounded puppy as he absorbed the words.

"Oh dear." His face scrunched up and he hesitantly started flipping through the pages.

"There's more inside the box." Crowley began fumbling through the papers, finally settling on a piece the size of his palm.

_"Think of thee own energy and that of thine foe. Ye will be stripped of demonry, to protect thyself and the angel for only the fly possess the power to feel for their own brethren."_

Crowley reread the words again and again, before crumpling the paper up and throwing it across the room. Aziraphale gave him a worried look and set the new prophecy pages onto the table, and walked over to pick up the crumpled paper. He smoothed it out and read it.

"Well, this one's rather easy to decipher, but shouldn't you have come to the conclusion-"

"I know." Crowley snapped, ignoring the hurt look on the angels face.

"Stupid of me to not immediately think, _ah yes, good ol' Beelzebub can track my demonic energy and pop in anytime._ I thought they were just finding us through Geraldine!"

"Crowley." Aziraphale set the paper down onto the table carefully and walked closer to put a hand on Crowley's cheek.

Crowley hid the wince of the slightly uncomfortable hot hand and stared down into Aziraphale's worried eyes.

"It would explain how they always found you before."

"Well if they had, they never brought it up. It was just a common thing, for Beelzebub to just appear where I was."

"Maybe they aren't aware?" Aziraphale asked softly, slowly snaking the hand not touching Crowley's cheek, around the taller mans waist, drawing him closer.

Crowley sighed, took the hand on his cheek and intertwined his fingers with it, and tucked their hands between their chests as he closed the space between them. The heat seemed more bearable this way, with their hands touching rather than Aziraphale's hand on his face. He leaned down and tucked the angel's head under his chin.

"I hate this." He muttered into Aziraphale's hair.

The angel squeezed, whether in reassurance or understanding the human did not know, and said nothing.

* * *

Day two was possibly the worst day of Crowley's life. Becoming human was one thing, trying to manage the ropes was another.

The hunger wasn't so bad. Aziraphale had spent most of the night before setting the entire place up so it was fully stocked in the kitchen, and the rest of the cottage was mixed with bits of Crowley's flat, and Aziraphale's bookshop. 

It wasn't noticeable from the street, but Hollythorn cottage, was bigger on the inside, thanks to ethereal miracles.

Boredom was also taken care of. With the reading glasses Anathema had gifted him, he could read books and magazines. He also began to appreciate the TV more, and immensely enjoyed the humor of a particular podcast of a town in the desert. Aziraphale was _not_ amused by the angels of _Night Vale._ Aziraphale had also miracled games and puzzles, so for however long they were stuck for, they wouldn't have to worry about having nothing to do.

Everything else about being human, was, to put it in _delicate words,_ a shit show.

Standing in front of a toilet for ten minutes, trying to figure how everything worked while his bladder became increasingly more uncomfortable, was just the tip of the iceberg. Waking up with hair on his chin brought in another twenty minutes of trying not to cut himself while having to _manually_ shave. It also seemed like his body, even though it was moving around and was _awake,_ was still booting up, after spending most of the morning in the bathroom. He had showered and brushed his teeth as well. 

Sleeping had been another mountain to climb. The cottage was drafty, so he was freezing - Aziraphale hadn't noticed because of his non humanness, and Crowley was too stubborn to bring it up - so he would snuggle up to his angel for warmth, and a few minutes later he'd be in a sauna, trapped under blankets and a warm angel. So he had spent a restless night, finally coming to the conclusion of sleeping curled up to the angel, with only half the sheets covering him, which _oddly_ _enough,_ worked.

Crowley was no stranger to sleeping, but after he'd finally settled, he still couldn't get to sleep. Aziraphale had nodded off so he was just stuck staring up at the ceiling until he magically dozed off. He'd woken about four hours later when a very _human_ _urge_ had woken him up.

Aziraphale was still asleep when Crowley finally emerged from the bathroom, and with his stomach rumbling he headed straight for the kitchen. He figured since it was closer to lunch, he'd have brunch. He was unsure which side had created brunch, maybe it had been the humans? But he made himself some oatmeal - which was a bit of a struggle but he figured out how to make it with the help of the handy instructions of the instant oatmeal package. The stove had been another story, so he'd settled for the microwave - a BLT with mayo and no tomato - he was sure hell had been the ones to create tomatoes - coffee, blueberry muffin, and a very english beans on toast.

He finished it all rather quickly, and went back to the bedroom after putting the dishes in the sink. Getting dressed was rather slow and tedious. He balanced on one leg to try and put on a pair of skin tight black jeans, and fell partially into the walk in closet, just in time catching himself on the door jamb.

He then just spent a lot of time trying to wiggle the material up his body, and finally got them over his ass, feeling sweaty and worn out. He then put on a dark green silk shirt, and his usual grey scarf necklace thing - even he didn't know what to call it- and his favorite Valentino sunglasses.

He paused at the sunglasses. His glasses had never been this tinted before. He frowned and pulled them off to study them, but they didn't look tampered with at all.

Stupid human eyes.

He reluctantly put them back on his face and put on socks and his usual snake skin pointed shoes, and walked out of the room, heading for his Bentley. He started her up, figuring he'd look around the town they were in, get a feel of the place. He popped one of Beethoven's CD's into the player and was taken aback, when _Piano Sonata No.14,_ came out of the speakers.

He sat in the car for a good hour, just listening to Beethovens greatest hits, stunned.

That's where Aziraphale found him.

The knock to the cars window made him roll it down and then quite blankly say, "She doesn't play Queen 'nomore."

Aziraphale's eyebrows arched high and he dipped his head inside to better hear what was now _Fidelio._

Crowley made a gesture as if to say what-can-you-do.

Aziraphale gave a small smile, which instantly lightened the mood, and rushed over to the other side so he could slide into the car and listen to music he hadn't heard in years, vibrating with pleasure at not hearing Fat Bottom Girls blaring at him in place of the Opera.

Crowley rolled his eyes, but couldn't find himself to really care anymore that the Bentley was playing music like a normal car, because his angel was pleased. He threw an arm around the angel and Aziraphale cuddled closer, resting his head on the humans shoulder.

Crowley wouldn't properly mourn his car until his breakdown three days later.

Day three was the plants.

Aziraphale had kindly made a room on the upper floor for Crowley's plants. The room was spacious enough that the plants all had enough room to spread out to their hearts content. It had a sunroof for the leaves to soak up the rays, and a fine marble floor and warm toned walls.

Crowley walked into the room at early morning, still wearing a pair of silk black boxers and a purple cashmere bath robe. 

He'd picked up the spritzer, started his usual demonic pep talk to the plants, and stopped mid sentence when he noticed none of the plants were trembling.

They all stood stock still and not at all life like.

He cautiously sprayed one of the plants, watching the way the water landed on each leaf. The plant did not lean into the spray. It again just stood stock still.

Day four was spent much the same.

He had a routine now. Get up at seven am, slightly sweaty and head off to the bathroom. He'd take care of his human needs, shower, and then use a moisturizer that reminded him of his usual scent of cinnamon and something burnt. He couldn't help himself with spraying a cologne on afterwards, then heading down to make himself breakfast. He'd play chess by himself, or grab his glasses and read a novel or two, waiting for Aziraphale to wake up.

He would peer into the plant room, and give half-hearted shouts, and even tried coaxing them with the promise of sweeter water, but there was no response.

Crowley had lost his plants, just as he'd lost his Bentley, his walk, his eyes, his natural demoness.

Now he was a husk of a human. Filled with unwanted and mixed emotions. 

He didn't like how Aziraphale was now overly cautious with him; how the angel made his stomach clench up and his skin grow hotter. He knew they were normal reactions for a human who is around someone they're in love with, but the feelings unsettled him. Aziraphale had hardly touched him since the first night. Oh sure, a lingering touch of fingers, a small kiss on the cheek, but he always pulled away quickly, or didn't sit as near as he used to because he knew the angelic body temperature affected Crowley as a human differently than Crowley as a demon.

They had taken two steps back.

And that frustrated Crowley immensely since they had just, finally, gotten together.

They hadn't even had sex yet, and Crowley's mind was becoming a wasteland of naughty thoughts. Visions of what he though Aziraphale's creamy white thighs would look like hooked over his shoulders, distracted him through lunch. Wonders of what noises he could coax out of the angel plunged him into a daydream that left him hard and forced to take care of himself since he couldn't miracle it away.

By mid afternoon of the fourth day, Crowley was about to beg Aziraphale to take him, or the other way around. It didn't matter which, it never had. He figured it wouldn't be the ideal or most opportune time to have sex; he was still only a vulnerable human, but that vulnerable human brain and body was horny, and Aziraphale was just looking sweeter every minute that passed by.

Crowley spread his legs open, an invitation for the angel to see. But the angel was true to a fault of being oblivious, so Aziraphale began looking through the prophecy pages after dinner, instead of going in between Crowley's legs, or even sitting on top of them. 

"Maybe we should call Anathema." Aziraphale said, instead of something a long the lines of, " _Crowley dear, I would love it if you would ram me up against the wall and make out like those two teenagers Shakespeare wrote about."_

"Why would we do that?" Crowley grumbled, closing his legs with a definitive snap that was only for his ears. "We're only supposed to call her if we really need to."

"Well, don't you think this circumstance calls for it?"

Crowley gritted his teeth and didn't look at Aziraphale as he spoke.

"We're only supposed to call Anathema if the situation is really dire, such as if Gabriel and Beelzebub somehow managed to find us. I don't want to leave ourselves defenseless just so the witch can come over and tell us that, while it was not quite clear what a _side effect_ would be, we knew and fully consented to the spell."

With that he left the room.

That night he didn't join Aziraphale in bed. He instead turned on the TV and flipped through reality tv shows and baking competitions.

Being human, the guilt at leaving Aziraphale like was eating away at him, so after watching a particular baking show, and scrolling through the internet on his phone. He came up with a plan to make the angel a special sweet treat for the next day.

* * *

And that's what all lead up to day five.

"I was trying to make you bloody banana nut bread." Crowley said softly. Wiping away all the tears from his face, and focusing on the warm heat of Aziraphale's body to keep him calm.

"Oh. Dear that's so _nice_ of you." Aziraphale's voice always made Crowley happy, even when it was calling him a four letter word.

Crowley was now human, so instead of angrily shoving Aziraphale away for saying that, he instead blushed and squeezed the angel tightly, mumbling into the crook of the angels neck, " _I am not nice."_

They sat like that for a few minutes, before Crowley started to shift with discomfort, and forced the angel to rise up with him.

Aziraphale helped him finish baking, and also miracled away the cut.

An hour later they were enjoying banana nut bread on the couch, Crowley with his head in Aziraphale's lap, and the angel watching a national history documentary with the volume on just high enough that it was a nice background noise.

"Its rather good, thank you Crowley." Aziraphale said, after polishing off about 3/4 of the bread - Crowley was starting to see that measurements did indeed come into practice more than he thought.

Aziraphale brushed away a stray crumb from Crowley's lips, and let his finger linger there.

Crowley was getting that feeling in his stomach again. As a demon, he had certainly understood these feelings, lust was a sin after all, but he had never experienced that hot feeling in his lower stomach as powerfully as humans did. 

His pants were already becoming tighter, and recalling his feelings from the day before, Crowley dared to make his own fantasies come true.

Oh sure, the angel and he held hands now, and cuddled in bed and on the couch and in the car...and well basically everywhere because Crowley was a sap for touching, and they'd made out quite heavily. But something about just _taking Aziraphale's fingers into his own mouth and sucking on it_ was absolutely crossing over several lines. It was a simple action, one that wasn't as _dirty_ as thrusting hard into his angel, but was certainly _dirtier_ then slow, languid kisses in bed and then curling up around each other and going to sleep.

Aziraphale's finger was large, soft, and warm inside his mouth. It tasted of the banana bread and something sweeter. Crowley's tongue wrapped around it and he really wished he could make his tongue forked again because he was dying to know what it would be like to taste as well as smell that finger inside his mouth, and then pulled away from the finger with a wet _pop._

Aziraphale had focused all his attention now onto his finger and Crowley's lips. His face was flushed a lovely color, and Crowley took that as encouragement to continue that treatment again.

Aziraphale let out a high pitched squeak when Crowley's lips once again sucked in the angel's fingers, but he made no move to stop it. Instead his free hand threaded through Crowley's hair, making Crowley's pants tighter. Apparently his human self liked it when Aziraphale was scratching at his head and tugging at the red locks.

With a grace that he believed to be in harmony with his old self, he lifted himself up and sat down squarely on Aziraphale's thighs. He coyly itsy bitsy spidered his way up Aziraphale's chest, making sure his fingers pressed into the angels body as he made his way up, and stopped at the collar of Aziraphale's shirt so he could tug him upright so they were nose to nose. His other hand trailed down to the waist band of Aziraphale's pants, where his belt was, and hooked a finger there.

"Why don't we forget about all this nonsense," a small kiss to the corner of the angels lips, "and _explore._ "

Aziraphale hands had involuntarily placed themselves on either side of Crowley's lithe waist, and they squeezed harshly at the utterly sinful growl coming from Crowley's throat.

He moved his hips in such a way that he brushed against Aziraphale, and let out a moan that would have made any proper Jezebel blush. Aziraphale swallowed loudly and squeezed tighter. 

Angels, like demons, couldn't feel the same level of sexual arousal as humans can, but Crowley knew that by the end of the night, he'd make the angel want him more than a human could possibly imagine.

"I think it would be a waste not to try it with this, _human body._ We can compare it later once I'm a demon again. Think of it as research."

Crowley kissed Aziraphale again, both hands undoing the angel's belt.

"C-Crowley." Aziraphale whined out against his lips, and they were both in the air, Aziraphale standing with Crowley's long legs wrapped snuggled around his waist. Aziraphale kept one hand in the humans hair and the other supporting Crowley's ass.

Crowley smirked and let out a happy laugh as the angel all but ran towards the bedroom.

As Aziraphale dumped him onto the bed and his body bounced as the bed accommodated his weight, and then the slightly heavier angels weight, he couldn't resist saying.

"Can I get a _Wahoo!"_

* * *

"It's been five days."

"I'm well aware of that, _thanks."_ Anathema snapped.

It had been five days. Five days of Gabriel threatening and almost harming Newt and her. Five days of Beelzebub trying to enjoy the torment of two humans, but looking oddly off put by it.

"Let's try again than shall we?" Gabriel smiled placatingly, his hands folded in the lap of his crossed legs. He took up the kitchen with malice and righteousness. His purple eyes a swirling storm that beat away at Anathema's bravery.

"I told you, and this time please try to get it through your head, but I can not find them unless they want to be found!" Anathema shouted, the weariness of having a strange demon and angel invade her home and threaten her endlessly was taking its toll. 

Newt was now the one that had to split Anathema and Gabriel up, Anathema's fiery temper equal with Gabriel's own, and Newt seemed to be the only one who knew when either side was about to push too much. 

He clearly didn't want to see who would win in a fight between an angel and a witch.

"And again," Gabriel gritted out, "you said there was a counter spell."

Anathema pursed her lips together and stood strong. She would never betray the trust Crowley and Aziraphale had put in her.

Gabriel slammed his fist onto the table and got up from his seat.

Newt easily slid in front of Anathema, his body only betraying his nervousness by the shake of his hands.

Gabriel kept a wide berth of Newt every since that first day. He had seemed to genuinely regret ever laying hands on the human male, and wouldn't dare to do anything else to Newt.

He retreated back to the kitchen chair and dropped into it gracefully. Fixing the couple with his best glare.

They'd been going in circles for five days straight. They were all tired and worn out, but all extremely tired. Gabriel and Beelzebub had threatened, pleaded, showered the mortals with gifts, but neither witch nor witch hunter would budge.

They were at a stalemate that seemed like it would last for longer than the humans would live.

"The counter curse will not work unless it is performed by a _willing_ individual."

Gabriel scoffed, having heard that line a bazillion times.

"Ok, make yourself willing then." He repeated back the same line for the bazillionth time. 

He happened to look over at Beelzebub at that moment, their body framed by sunlight coming in through the light of the window. They were looking at him with their usual emotionless gaze, but Geraldine was just pushing out enough emotion for him to get a general gist of how the Lord of Hell was feeling.

"You don't seem to understand the importance of this." He was going off script, and now had the full attention of three others in the room.

"This is an abomination, a mockery of God." He rubbed his temples as he felt a stress headache building. After five days of continuous arguing, even and angel can succumb to such a human pain.

"An angel and a demon are not supposed to _fraternize,_ let alone partake in such a relationship as those two have. I'm amazed God hasn't gotten rid of them yet. I believe she is unaware though and Beelzebub and I just need to collect enough evidence to show her so she will bestow judgment onto the traitor and demonic serpent."

He looked at Beelzebub for support and they stepped forward reluctantly.

"It'szz againszzt natural order, for them to love each other, for them to be as closzze as they are. They need to be szztopped, itszz doing them more harm than good to continue on like thiszz. And they're even szzocializing with you lot, we are not meant to do that."

"It's only doing them more harm than good because of _you."_ Anathema said quietly and calmly but it might as well have been shouted so loudly the surrounding area would crumble from the shock waves.

"And how can you tell me to my face that they are abominations, that they are acting against the natural law, when in fact they're acting the most human. Humans were created in the vision of God's and angels alike, angels are supposed to be caring and open and loving, and Aziraphale is. Crowley is cunning and mischievous like a demon is, but they also both contain traits that the other has, just like a human is not fully good or evil. That doesn't mean they have anything wrong with them." 

The angel went to protest but Anathema shook her head and silenced him.

"You all started in the same place, didn't you?"

* * *

"Ok this is getting bloody ridiculous." 

"Well I was sure-"

"Books don't need to be incorporated in every aspect Aziraphale, how the hell do you suppose I bend like that when this form cramps up if I so much as twist my leg the wrong way."

Aziraphale had the decency to look embarrassed as Crowley snatched the book out of his hands and flung it out of the bedroom and into the hall.

"Maybe when I'm back to my own self we can try it, but if you ask me to try _The Waterfall_ position again, I will burn all your books."

Aziraphale made a pitiful noise in the back of his throat and Crowley rolled his eyes and muttered an apology.

"Can we just try to get back to the subject at hand? It's a bit chilly in here." He motioned to their naked forms, and Aziraphale once again lowered himself down to fully cover Crowely's body with his own.

Crowley was instantly blanketed in a hot heat that was inside his body and outside it, making his form achey and sweaty and out of breath. Aziraphale shinning above him, looking every bit innocent and angelic, and Crowley couldn't resist digging his teeth into the angels soft shoulder and running his hands up and down Aziraphale's creamy thick thighs and ass.

Aziraphale had been to bring up the damn Kama Sutra book once they'd taken off all their clothes. Crowley didn't need some sex book to help him. He and Aziraphale were not two people who had been married for many years and needed something to spice up their sex life, seeing as they didn't even have a sex life yet, but Crowley would humor the angel.

And then his leg kept cramping up and he was becoming less aroused and more annoyed.

But now that they were back at it, he felt himself stiffening up, and the friction between him and the angel was absolutely delightful.

He took pleasure in the small, desperate noises Aziraphale made as he flipped their positions and started kissing his way down Aziraphale's chest and stomach. He paused at Aziraphale's straining member, and blew a cool breath on it, making Aziraphale's hips buck up on their own accord.

Oh Sa-Go-someone he was going to enjoy this.

He went to wrap his lips around the angel's cock, much like earlier on the couch with the angel's finger in his mouth, when the faint sound of the doorbell was heard.

Aziraphale's eyes widened, and he propped himself up on his elbows.

"What was that?" He whispered.

Crowley reluctantly moved away from the tempting cock and whispered back, "Its the doorbell."

"Well what's it ringing for?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley snarked back, "It wants to let us know that it's happy we finally got our heads out of our asses and are finally going to fuck."

Aziraphale frowned, a scolding on the tip of his tongue when the doorbell rang once again.

Crowley let out some very colorful curses and scrambled out of the bed to put on his clothes. Aziraphale easily miracled himself into his usual attire, minus the jacket, and rolled the sleeves of his white button down and smoothed down his hair.

Crowley was still half hard and very irritated so he threw on a yellow silk robe and black socks and stomped down the stairs to the front door, the angel at his heels.

He opened the door, preparing to yell off some weasely door to door salesman because only they would be able to come up to the cottage, immune to the spell that made people want to avoid the area.

But to his horror, on their doorstep were Beelzebub and Gabriel. 

Anathema popped her head up from behind Gabriels shoulder, and Gearldine zoomed off of Beelzebub's head, and knocked into Crowley's chest, making Crowley's arms instinctively catch her and hold her tight to him.

"Hope we're not interrupting anything." Anathema said meekly.


End file.
